In the undergrowth beside the railway track
ants live in a world their own
the whistling trains run past to be back
leave trails of dust wind borne.

They have a dream when nights come
past day's frenzied task
strings of hope the fireflies strum
breaking out of the cocooned husk!

In those nights when full moon bloom
the limbs of ants shun rest
shed all pains rise up from gloom
they dig in mind's harvest.

Lines of them come out of hole
forget all diurnal scar
dance tango each midnight soul
watched by the heaven's star.

In those nights if you pass by them
tread the grass where silence reigns
can feel the stir of passion's flame
in the wind joy's lilting strain.